


Everything Changes but Paperwork.

by Basingstoke



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-01
Updated: 2007-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-02 17:37:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orientation will be provided by the administrative staff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything Changes but Paperwork.

Gwen arrived at the tourist office at five minutes before eight on Sunday morning for orientation at Torchwood. The door was unlocked, but it took her a moment before she took a deep breath, opened it, and walked in.

The receptionist--God, she should remember his name, but she couldn't--was there already. "Ms. Cooper, good to see you again," he said. "I'll just need your hand. Either will do."

"Ah, hello," Gwen replied. "Why do you need my hand?"

"Identification," he said.

"Oh, right." She gave him her right hand, but instead of scanning her fingerprints or some such, he stung her on the ball of her thumb with what felt like a tack. She jumped at the tiny flare of pain.

"Just a tiny RFID device. Perfectly harmless. You won't even know it's there," he said.

Gwen rubbed her thumb, and in fact she couldn't even feel that anything was wrong in a moment. She certainly couldn't feel any device under her skin. "RFID? Don't they use that to track dogs?"

"And children," he--God, she wished she could remember his name--said, smiling slightly. "Here we use it so that when you use the machinery--" And here, he pushed a button under the desk and the wall opened up. "--it knows you're authorized to do so. Better than a combination lock if you're in a rush. Come along, I'll show you around."

Gwen shrugged her handbag up higher on her shoulder and followed him down into Torchwood.

"Everyone else took the day off, so it'll be quiet and we can get the paperwork done. My name is Ianto Jones," he said.

"Oh! Yes."

He gave her another quiet little smile. "Receptionist, archivist, computer tech, driver, coffee-maker, and I polish Jack's boots when he asks me nicely. This is the usual entrance," he said, gesturing to the steel industrial lift. "The invisible lift is for emergencies. It lets in the rain, and besides, I'm always concerned that someone will fall in."

"Exactly!" Gwen said.

"Jack assures me that nobody ever has, but that's no predictor of the future, is it? Here we are." The giant cogwheel door rolled back as they approached. The great working room was just as she recalled: huge, gloomy, and cluttered. The floor was painted steel, the desks were glass and steel, the computers were enormous and thin.

"We'll just put you at this desk here," Ianto said. "Your login is gcooper, password is the word 'temporary.' Change that before you do any work."

Gwen looked across at another desk, shadowy and abandoned. "Suzie worked there."

"Yes, she did. Please let us know if you encounter any alien machinery that digs into your soul and haunts your dreams," Ianto said, which would have been very funny if his eyes weren't so sad.

Gwen set her handbag on her desk.

"There aren't any time clocks. Come in when it's comfortable, come running when Jack calls, that's all. Here," Ianto said. He went to another desk and plucked a breathtakingly modern headset and phone from a box. "Your mobile."

"I'm going to be running around the streets yelling at myself, aren't I?" she said, trying it on.

"Inevitably," Ianto said. He smiled. "You'll find everyone programmed in already. Try calling Jack."

The headset clipped onto her ear; it was wireless, thankfully. She looked at the speed dial on the phone itself and there it was, number one, Jack Harkness. She hit the button.

"Good morning!" Jack said. "Gwen?"

"Yes, it's me," Gwen said.

"I need to get you your own ring tone."

"If you push the button on the side here, you'll speak to whoever is online," Ianto said, pointing out the buttons and things. Gwen nodded.

"Everything all right up there?"

"Quite all right, sir," Ianto said.

"Right. Give me ten."

"Always, sir," Ianto said. There was a small beep in Gwen's ear as the connection broke off. "The pterodactyl is named Myfanwy," he said, and Gwen looked up.

The pterodactyl--my God, she hadn't dreamed that part--was sitting on top of a conference room, apparently grooming her wings. She was nibbling down the long bones, then rubbing her little claws against the top of her head.

"She likes music, you see," Ianto said. "Jack feeds her. She shouldn't bother you."

"No, why would a pterodactyl bother me?" Gwen said. She hooked her hands in her pockets and rocked back on her heels, just watching the thing.

"Come on," Ianto said. "I'll finish the tour." He smiled.

Gwen followed Ianto down another level into a brick and tile corridor. Upstairs, it was all metal grating and glass; downstairs, it looked almost Victorian. There were gas lamp fittings on the walls, though the light came from modern fluorescents mounted above them.

"Medical. Owen is actually quite a good emergency doctor," Ianto said, gesturing to a tidy white room. "And you'll want to keep a change of clothing here, so pick a locker." They stopped in front of a pair of doors marked "Ladies" and "Gentlemen" with ancient-looking brass plates.

"The facilities, I take it," Gwen said.

Ianto nodded. "There's also a hose in the autopsy room that serves as an emergency shower."

"Right." Gwen touched the ancient wooden door of the ladies. It was lovely, smooth, and worn. "Isn't all this a bit--old? How does the wiring hold up?"

"It--" Ianto was interrupted by the door marked "Gentlemen" opening and Jack Harkness walking through, stark naked, nothing but a towel thrown over his shoulder.

Gwen covered her mouth, but didn't bother to avert her eyes.

"Ianto. No need to lurk," Jack said, slapping Ianto's bottom as he passed. "Be with you in a minute, Gwen."

Gwen watched him walk up the stairs. "Of course, Jack never takes a day off," Ianto said, laughter lurking in his voice.

"Does he do that every morning?" Gwen asked.

"No, only when I'm here. I could *own* this place," Ianto said in a confidential whisper.

"Oh, my God. I'm just imagining my last boss taking a walk around in the buff. Urgh!" She shook herself, trying to ward off the images.

Ianto looked thoughtful. "My last was Ms. Hartman, at Torchwood One. Not so bad. Lovely legs."

"Right." Gwen looked at him. He smiled. "Torchwood One is London, right?" she asked.

"Was, until a year ago." Ianto said. "Bit of a shell now. Empty." He walked back up to the main room.

Gwen followed him. "Sorry. Jack didn't say what happened, exactly, just that it was destroyed?"

"There were twenty-seven survivors," Ianto said, without stopping. He was climbing up to the conference room.

Gwen followed him, again, hoping that was right. "Out of how many?"

"Over eight hundred." Ianto paused at the top of the stairs, looking down at Gwen at the bottom. His face was as still and neutral as a doll's. "When we go wrong, it can be quite spectacular. I have some papers for you to sign."

Over eight hundred. Eight *hundred.* They made a mistake and eight hundred people died and she knew, without even asking, that she didn't want to know how.

"They made a stupid mistake," Ianto said. "They were mucking about with something they didn't even begin to understand. I was on research for that project, so I can tell you that's a fact. I survived by hiding in an air duct under a desk."

"Oh," Gwen said. "Right."

"And we don't have the right kind of air ducts here, so try not to summon any hostile aliens from another dimension using power converters of unknown provenance." He still didn't show any emotion on his face; he was just locked down.

"I won't," Gwen said.

Then he smiled. "No. You're more sensible than that. That's why I came up here rather than fleeing to a tropical island like Maria in Accounts; Jack seems to know what he's doing."

Gwen breathed in--eight hundred--and breathed out. "I'm just police, I don't know the first thing about this--"

"Well, they hired me straight out of university, so that's one for you. Come on, there's papers to sign." Ianto went into the conference room. Gwen glanced up, checking for the pterodactyl; she couldn't see it, so she climbed up the stairs.

"This is the employment contract. Medical proxy. Health insurance. Waiver of liability should something happen to you. Assumption of liability should something happen to other people under Torchwood orders. Confidentiality agreement. Physical service agreement." Ianto snapped down the papers crisply, and Gwen-- well, she was here, wasn't she? She was in. So she signed.

"There we are, then," Ianto said, and gave her a smile with some real warmth in it. "Welcome to Torchwood. Come in tomorrow and see what happens."

Gwen nodded, feeling a bit dazed. Ianto gathered up the papers into a black folder with her name on the label, then gestured her to the door.

In the main room, Jack was feeding the pterodactyl, which was down on the grate flooring, completely blocking the door. "Come fly with me, we'll fly, we'll fly away," Jack crooned to her as he tossed squid underhand into the air. She snapped them up with a twitch of her neck at the top of their arc. "Won't be a minute," Jack said. The pterodactyl shrieked until he started singing again.

"No problem," Gwen said, and sat down on a metal step. Ianto wrinkled his nose and stood beside her.

"Weather wise it's such a lovely day; you just say the words, and well beat the birds down to Acapulco Bay... that's all, or you'll never keep your figure," Jack told the dinosaur, tossing the squid bucket into the fountain in the center of the room. It shrieked again, flapping its wings a couple of times, but stayed put on the walkways. "Fine, suit yourself," Jack said, and walked over to sit beside Gwen. He smelled, unsurprisingly, like squid.

"You should really do that before your shower, not after, sir," Ianto said.

"We live on the ocean. This is homey," Jack said. "What's wrong, Gwen? Don't like dinosaurs?"

The pterodactyl stuck her beak in the fountain, poking the bucket. "No--it's a bit cute, really. Does she really like the singing?" Gwen asked.

Jack grinned. "Don't you?" Gwen smiled in response.

"I was just telling her about Torchwood One," Ianto said.

"Ianto!" Jack tsked. "Don't spook the newbie."

"I signed the paper anyway. I'm in," Gwen said. "I won't--touch anything--until I know what it does."

"Well, how are you going to get anything done then?"

Gwen looked from Jack up to Ianto. Ianto shrugged.

"Trust me, I'm not going to let you bring Daleks through the Void," Jack said. "It's easy enough to avoid that one."

The pterodactyl finally left the fountain alone and hopped from the grating to the bridge to the top of the conference room, then launched itself into the air, spiraling up toward the high ceiling. "Here we are. See you tomorrow," Jack said. He stood and gave Gwen a hand up.

"I'll see you out," Ianto said. Gwen walked with him to the big industrial lift. "Don't forget your bag," he said, and she ran back to get it off the desk. Her desk.

Ianto was holding the door for her. She looked at the lift buttons when she got in; this was level one, and upstairs was level G. The numbers went up (down) to 20. Ianto used the file folder to poke a panel on the ceiling of the lift, which raised slightly before the folder buckled. "There's a ladder down the side, just in case," he said.

"Do you really think it's all going to go wrong again?"

Ianto was quiet until the lift reached the ground floor. "I hope not," he said. "And I'm putting great store in hope these days. So I suppose the answer is no. Good morning, Ms. Cooper," he said, smiling and walking behind his desk.

"Good morning, Mr. Jones," she replied, raising a hand goodbye as she walked out the door.

The End.


End file.
